Note from teh G-girl:

I'm terribly sorry for such a late update. Usually I update on the weekends, but a few weekends ago, my beloved piano teacher of five years passed, and it wasrather devistating. So, by way of apology, I've decided to combine what I had initally planned as chapters 3 and 4, now just chapter 3. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys my new characters (I know I do).

So, without further ado, I present Chapter 3 - Read on, valiant soldier!

edit: disclaimer: I own nothing, but I love to torment. Muahaha!

Van Helsing's eyesight was quite keen, but even so he had trouble keeping up with the fast moving young woman. There were times when all he could do was focus on the little light emitting from the candle in her lantern, which she held stiffly above her head, unceasing. She scuttled about the snow, jumping from one point to the next, only stopping when she was not sure if she could here the angel's footsteps. Carl slept all the while, wrapped in
numerous blankets and completely invisible.

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Liriel saw the dark wooden structure against the pale white snow and the dark blue sky, the golden light flickering from within, and the smoke emitting from the chimneystack. She stopped and waited as Van Helsing came up beside her.

"My home," she said, pointing to the small hut. Van Helsing nodded, and followed her up the hill, trying not to sink too deeply into the mound of snow.

As they came up to the front door, Van Helsing looked around. There was a barn not far off, and a stack of wood reaching the roof against the opposite side of the house. Liriel pulled off her snowshoes and tied them along with her riffles to the post where rested another pair of guns, a hoe, an axe, and three long sticks.

Liriel quickly knocked on the door, three times, loudly. They waited.

A round, brown head with graying hairs and dark brown eyes popped out from behind the door, and immediately flung it open, with a cry. A round, middle-aged woman wearing a dark gray dress and an apron threw her arms around Liriel with fervor, crying out in joy, "Auch, my dear!" Liriel held the woman for a moment, before stepping back and allowing the woman to usher in her daughter and the two men. As they entered, Van Helsing gazed about the room. It was small, homely, with brown walls and a large stone hearth on the left wall, two rocking chairs and a small couch sitting in front of it. There was a large wooden table behind these, covered in an embroidered table cloth, and there were various tools hanging from the walls, as well as paintings of portraits and fields of lush green, with wildflowers spilling all over the place. In the center of the tablecloth was a large green vase filled with a few dying roses. He felt a warmth slip into his bones, and he was not sure whether this was from the hearth or the feeling of happiness that shrouded the place.

"Mama, this is Gabriel Van Helsing. His friend is very ill, with the fever, I believe," Liriel said, as the woman took the rabbits and the satchel to another room. Liriel removed her scarf and coat, revealing a forest green dress beneath it, which seemed only to accent her startling eyes.

"Oh, dear. Has he the rash?" she asked, returning with a tall man who had gray hair and a gray beard, with dark green eyes almost identical to his daughters; they lacked the same aura of mystery that Liriel's were covered in. He wore a shirt and vest, with dark brown breeches and boots. He was long and slim, and Van Helsing was mildly surprised to find himself looking up at the elderly man.

"Yes. I believe my bedroom shall suffice for him and Mr. Van Helsing, do you not?" she asked, touching the angel on his shoulder and leading him to the hallway attached to the wall behind the table. He followed her as she selected the last door on the right. Inside there were two small beds, one covered in with a quilt and feather pillow, and between them a table with a lamp. There was a small desk against the wall behind the door. Other than that, the room was quite bare.

Van Helsing gently placed Carl down on the bed against the right wall. Mrs. Verialla brought behind her a tin tub filled with warm water, several towels, and a few bottles filled with what Van Helsing could only suppose were an assortment of healing herbs.

"Shoo, my dear. I shall see to your friend. What is his name?" she asked, patiently ushering the angel out of the room along with her daughter.

"Carl. His name is Carl," Van Helsing said over his shoulder. Liriel lead him back down the hall to the kitchen, in the center of which stood another table, without a cloth, and three wooden chairs. Her father followed behind her.

"Mr. Van Helsing," he started, holding out his hand, "My name is Cyprian Verialla, and my wife's name is Tereza. You have already met our daughter, Liriel. Come. You are soaked. I shall find new clothes for you," he said, and turned. Van Helsing followed him, as Liriel set about the dishes.

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Carl wasn't quite sure if he was dreaming. He felt a cold hand on his cheek, and then warm water bathing his face and chest. He must have been on fire, for he the burning sensation that clouded his skin and mind was very sharp and tingly. He felt a hand beneath his head, and a cup pressed to his lips. He proceeded to drink what he was offered, but it tasted foul, and he gagged, not wanting to swallow, but someone pinched his nose, forcing the vile concoction down his throat. He swallowed, his throat cracking in two, and he whimpered.

He was alone again. The person who had left him soaking wet (although it felt quite nice,) was gone. He was lying beneath a smooth blanket, his head on a pillow. Where they back at the Vatican? It felt nice to be lying in a bed again.

Something scrapped against the floor. He opened his eyes, and saw a light and what might have been another bed across the room. His eyes strayed to the figure rising up from the floor. It had blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, and a very round face. A girl, it appeared to be. She wore a light, starch white shirt and brown leggings, a bow and quiver filled with arrows on her back. Her hair was short, almost, coming only to her shoulders in unkempt ringlets, at the very ends. Her eyes looked very old, and very sad. They held all the wisdom and pain in the world. A light smile crossed her face. Carl found his hand reaching towards her, and she let her little fingers reach out to touch his at the halfway point. Carl felt a cold spark travel down his arm and across his body, and he shuddered, pulling his hand back unconsciously. The girl stepped towards the bed, and sat down beside him. He pressed his face against the pillow, turning on his side, rubbing his forearms. The girl pulled the blanket up over his shoulders where it had slipped. She then stroked his hair, calmly, softly, and gently. Back and forth, in soothing, almost hypnotic pattern. Carl felt his eyes close. There was a calming feeling spreading from this girl's fingertips. He felt such stillness, such a peace that he had never known. He hoped she wouldn't leave.

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Van Helsing sighed at his new garments. He now sported black trousers, a dark brown shirt, and a small jacket over that. He had removed his hat and placed it on the rack along with Liriel's scarf and coat. Tereza had taken his clothing to some unknown room to be washed and dried.

He found Liriel sitting at the table in the kitchen, but she stood when he entered the room.

"You must be tired. Come, you shall share the room with your friend, Carl," she said, leading him to the room where Carl was staying.

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The girl heard the voices carrying down the hall. She quietly slid from the bed and crawled back under it, her stomach against the floor, her head turned sideways to peer under the bed coverings at the two pairs of feet that entered. There were Liriel's, her soft brown boots, and then a harder, more sturdy pair, and from the man's mouth came a deep, low voice.

"Thank you, for your kindness. I'm sure if Carl were awake, he would be thanking you as well."
"It is no trouble," came Liriel's soft voice, and the girl wanted to jump from her hiding place and run to the dark haired girl, "we are happy to help. Come, you need rest. I shall see you in the morning. Good night, Mr. Van Helsing," she ended.

"Just Van Helsing, Ms. Verialla," he muttered after her.

"And just Liriel, thank you," she called, shutting the door. The boots stood at the edge of the bed, no doubt leaning over to examine the blonde man. She waited, hardly breathing. The man turned and lay down in the opposite bed, rolling over against the wall from the sound of the creaking mattress. The light was left on.

She waited.